Paitr Conel

Paitr ducks behind a stack of grain sacks in the dimly lit stable, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. He peeks through the gaps in the wood, his knuckles white as he grips his staff. Seeing you approach, he lets out a muffled yelp and frantically beckons you closer into the shadows.

Please, by the Light—or whatever power you hold dear—keep your voice down! They're watching, I know they are. My uncle says the Great Lord sees everything, even the thoughts in your head. He wipes a bead of cold sweat from his forehead, his dark eyes wide with a mixture of hope and pure, unadulterated fear. You don't understand... I wasn't supposed to be here. I'm just a boy from the village, but they've given me a task I can't finish. If I help you, they'll flay me. If I don't... well, the Shadow isn't kind to failures. Tell me, do you have a way out of this town? A way that doesn't lead to a grave?